Chapter 2
TWO
Jen
I wake up to a chorus I had hoped never to hear again reverberating through my living room and roll over, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it over my ears. The lead singer of The Chainsmokers is annoying even when I haven’t just woken up. When Adam starts to sing along, I lose my temper.
Flinging the pillow aside, I throw back the duvet and stalk into the living room only to find him with his feet up on my brand-new sofa, casually browsing my laptop. He looks up with a smile. “Good morning. I was going to make coffee, but you’re out of milk. Sorry.”
I blink. “There was plenty of milk.”
“Yeah, there was, but I accidentally left it out on the counter last night.”
A new song starts playing, and it’s so loud I can barely think. “Oh my god. Turn that off.”
He cuts the track, and I pinch my fingers over the bridge of my nose.
“I’m not going to ask about the milk, seeing as you said you’re dead and you’re not eating or drinking, but what the hell are you doing on my laptop and…
” I pause, looking him over, and finally notice what he’s wearing.
“Is that my sweater?” My Metallica sweater is too short in the arms for him, and I know the shoulders will never be the same again.
And now I’m extra annoyed because I’m thinking about how hot Adam’s shoulders are. And how broad. And defined…
Fuck!
Adam shrugs. “It’s cold in here. I used your laptop because I didn’t have the Wi-Fi password. I needed to research.”
I breathe out slowly. “Fine. You know what? Fine. I have to work today. I don’t have time for this.”
“But you’re still gonna help, right?” Adam sets aside the laptop and jumps up from my sofa. “Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
I ignore the way he follows me into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “Yeah. I’m going to help because I’ve just remembered how annoying it is to live with you, and I don’t plan on doing it for any longer than I have to.”
“Annoying?”
I reach behind Adam to open a cupboard, forcing him to jump out of the way. He almost knocks the carton of spoiled milk off the counter, catching it and setting it back again with an apologetic smile. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”
I roll my eyes. “I highly doubt that.”
I can’t even start my day with my normal coffee. Grumbling, I put some bread in the toaster and get the peanut butter from the cupboard. “What were you researching?”
“Well I was thinking about it logically.” He leans nonchalantly on the counter right where the drawer with the cutlery is, and I yank it out, bumping it into his hip none too gently. I draw the knife out of the drawer slowly, glaring at him.
“Ow! I was just thinking that since you confirmed that I’m a zombie—”
I hold up a finger. “I never confirmed anything.”
“—that I’m most likely a zombie, then I should look into, well, zombies. This is clearly some kind of curse. So I just need to work out how to lift it.” He beams at me.
“Yeah, right,” I scoff. “Come on, that's the least logical conclusion. I’m sure there’s some medical reason for whatever symptoms you’re experiencing.”
“Like what?”
I pause, knife hovering over my toast. “Well, you haven’t actually told me all your symptoms yet. Let’s start there.” I jerk my head at the little desk by the window. “There’s a pen and paper there. Write them all down and I’ll look into it.”
Adam obediently goes to the desk and starts writing his list, and I start forming a plan.
Annie has seen a lot of patients in her time.
I’ll start by asking her if she’s ever seen anything like this.
Taking a bite of toast, I walk over to look at what he’s written so far: can’t sleep, not hungry, not thirsty, no pulse, no heartbeat.
“Low temperature.”
He looks up. “Huh?”
“Your skin feels cold.” I put the back of my hand against his forehead, and sure enough, it feels cool.
Adam adds it to his list. I glance over it and have to admit, the list doesn’t look good.
Not that it’s my problem. He stopped being my problem when he told me he was breaking up with me to ‘see what’s out there’.
I turn away with a huff. “Add being an insufferable prick. Oh, no, wait. You were like that before your accident.”
“There’s no need to be mean, Jen.” He sounds genuinely hurt.
I shrug. “Just being honest.” I walk to the sofa and finish my toast, still thinking. “What are you going to do while I’m at work?”
He sighs. “Do you have to go today? I was kinda hoping you might take the day off.”
“I can’t just take the day off, Adam. You know that.”
“You always were a stickler for the rules. OK, well, I guess I’ll just hang out here, then. Have you got any streaming services?”
“No. Feel free to add yours, though.” I know he doesn’t have a subscription. It was always up to me to organize that stuff.
I dress for work, pack a bag with my lunch, and pause on my way out the door. “Keep a journal while I’m gone.”
“A what?”
“A journal. Make a note of anything and everything you notice, even if you think it’s not important. You never know. It might help.”
He rolls his eyes, and I glare at him until he throws up his hands. “OK, fine. I’ll journal. Geez, you’re still a hard ass.”
Ugh. I have not missed his whining. Right now it’s pretty hard to remember what I ever saw in him.
The line at the coffee shop near my flat is so long by the time I get there, I have to skip takeout coffee and opt for the awful instant shit at work in the breakroom.
I’m in a bad mood by the time my shift starts, and my temples throb with an impending headache.
I’m lifting the notes from the base of the first patient’s bed to check them when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Adam: do you have moisturizer?
Oh my god. I thought it was impossible for him to get more annoying. I was wrong.
Jen: I’m at work
Adam: yeah but can u just tell me if you have any? My skin feels so dry
I shove my phone back in my pocket and try to concentrate, but it’s constant. I try answering, I try not answering. It doesn’t matter. The relentless texting continues throughout the day.
Next there’s a snapshot of my bathroom counter with the caption: which one of these is foundation?
I avoid the temptation to ask him why he wants to know. There’s no possible good answer.
On my lunchbreak I actually call him, but he doesn’t answer. That’s even worse! Why did I think it would be a good idea to leave him alone in my flat?
When he finally calls me back part way through the afternoon, I break the rules to slip out and answer. “Adam, what are you doing and how much is it going to cost me?”
“Jen, never mind that. Jen you’ve gotta come home.”
Fuck. “Why?”
“Don’t laugh, OK?”
“Trust me. I’m not laughing.”
“There’s definitely something wrong with me. I’m not kidding.”
“Adam, I don’t have time for this.”
The phone buzzes.
“I just sent you a picture. Please promise me you won’t laugh.”
Curious despite myself, I pull it away from my ear and look. I almost choke on my own spit and drop my phone. Then I have to look behind me to check no one is there.
I know very well what it is. I would recognize that dick anywhere. Unfortunately it has now become my yardstick for what I hope to find the first time I’m with someone new. There are lots of things I don’t like about Adam.
So many things.
His dick is not one of them. I wish it was.
His dick is what made me weak enough to keep answering his calls after we first hooked up, and I have nothing but regrets about that.
I blink. Because Adam’s dick in the picture is flaccid. Not his normal MO.
“Jen? Jen, are you there? Please say something.”
I pull the phone back to my ear in a hurry, covering my mouth with a cupped hand and lowering my voice. “OK, so you have a dick. I know. I’ve seen it.”
“It won’t get hard.”
I can’t help it. I burst into a peel of laughter, and the receptionist behind the desk looks up in surprise. “Are you actually kidding me right now?”
“Jen, why would I joke about this? This is serious. You have to fix it.”
“Fix it? What do you want me to do? Cast a magic spell?”
“I mean, I just thought, you’re a nurse… so… maybe some little blue pills?”
“Oh my god, Adam. You’re twenty-nine. Just give it some time. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“Yeah, but, Jen? It’s been days. Do you know how often I normally get hard?”
I glance behind me, but the receptionist is looking at her screen and there are only a couple of older ladies waiting in reception. “I don’t want to.”
“I jerk off every day. Twice most days. I haven’t cum in four days!”
“Well I have news for you, Adam. It might be four more days. Or even longer. But you won’t die from it. I can guarantee that.” I hang up, and it takes me a full minute to reflect on how my choice of words might have come across wrong.
I didn’t mean it as a comment on his current situation. I only meant he doesn’t actually need to cum. Whatever. It’s done now, and he should know better than to call me at work for something so stupid.
I shove my phone in my pocket and try to drag my mind away from Adam and his dick. I just need to make sure I don’t see it hard. I know myself, and I know that’s a temptation too great to resist.
I don’t have much success keeping my mind out of my zombie ex-boyfriend’s pants, though.
It’s a quiet afternoon. So by the time my shift finishes, I decide to implement an additional avoidance strategy.
I shoot off a quick message to Molly, my ride or die, and execute a speedy change into the backup outfit I stash in my locker for just such an occasion.
The jeans and T-shirt combo isn’t going to turn any heads, but that’s not the point.
Half an hour later I’m pulling up a seat next to her at our usual haunt, Pour Decisions. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Molly slides a negroni across the table, and I take a long sip, grateful she knows me well enough not to mess around with anything less potent.
Not tonight.
“Oh my god, I needed this. Thank you.”
She waits until I take another sip. “What happened?”
I sigh. “Adam.”
Her thick brows shoot up another inch. “No! Not Adam. Jen, are you crazy?”
“Not like that. I am absolutely not going back there. Not in a million years.”
“Good.” Relieved, Molly takes a sip of her drink and settles in.
“The thing is though, he’s staying at mine for the next ten days. And I need your help. Because I’m definitely not going back there, but girl, his dick…” I trail off. I don’t have to finish the sentence.
Molly nods sympathetically. “Yeah. OK, so start at the beginning. Why are you letting this asshat stay with you?”
I swirl my straw in my drink, feeling a little sheepish. “Because I promised?”
“And how did he manipulate you into doing that?”
There’s a pause. Manipulation is classic Adam, but maybe in this case that’s being too harsh.
I also promised not to tell anyone what happened.
Not until we work out what to do. “He’s…
having a hard time lately. And it’s not for long.
Anyway, the point is, he’s sleeping on my couch, and I promised him I wouldn’t kick him out until Meredith comes on the 8th. ”
“Hmm.” Molly taps her chin speculatively. “OK, but do you want him there?”
“No! He’s still a massive pain in the ass. Plus, I don’t need that temptation. I swear to god, every second date I’ve had recently has been a no show or had some kind of serious personal hygiene problem. But I know I can do better than Adam.”
“Of course you can. He’s out there. You just haven’t found him yet. Or her?”
I laugh. “Sorry. Painfully straight.”
“Mmm.” Molly takes another drink. “OK, but no boning Adam.”
“Yeah. And with him there, I can’t bring anyone home either.”
Molly’s lips curve into a smile. “Why not?”
My mouth falls open, and I stare at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s the one who wanted you to do him a favor right? That doesn’t give him the right to cock block you. And you know what? Maybe if you give him some…encouragement, he might leave a little earlier?”
My own smile grows to mirror hers. “Oh my god. Molly, you’re a genius! That’s it! I’ll make him want to leave! Do you think I can?”
“Depends how much you want it.”
“Oh I want it. I can’t wait to get rid of him again.”
“Then it’ll work. You can do anything you put your mind to, Jen. I know you. I bet he’ll be gone by the weekend.”
I snort. “That’s too good to hope for, but I think I could manage ten days. I mean if I can at least get him out by next Friday night, I might get laid.”
“You’re underselling yourself, but whatever. The point is, you have a plan. Now quick, let’s brainstorm all the things you guys used to fight about just to seal the deal.”
We bend over our drinks, and soon we’re giggling and ordering another round.
What with that and forgetting to eat dinner, I’m just a little tipsy by the time I trip over the threshold of my flat four hours later.